Part 25: The Coastguard
Outside the Estates
May’s offered a special treat,
a chance to escape.
Several months after the kidnapping of eleven women connected to Tangram-Tessera International, a man lifts a microphone, tunes his radio to the emergency channel and begins a sequence of planned events.
“Mayday, Mayday, this is the US registered yacht May’s Revenge, calling any Coastguard or US Naval vessel close to these coordinates, (longitude and latitude given and repeated) I say again, Mayday, Mayday, over.”
(The message was repeated again before they got an answer.)
“May’s Revenge, this is the USCGC vessel Auxiliary. What is the nature of your emergency?”
“USCGC Auxiliary, we have recovered three female survivors on Mmes du Bastille Island in the gulf, at the coordinates I gave, apparently suffering from shock and amnesia, because they’re claiming to be Ginger, Mary-Ann and Lovey Howell! Can you offer medical assistance? It would take us another day, plus some to hit port and these women appear to be in distress.”
Several minutes later they heard, “May’s Revenge, our rescue helicopter is in the air and on its way to you as we speak. We have changed our heading and we are moving toward you. Please maintain your position until we can rendezvous with you in approximately, --- three hours. Can you wait for us to arrive?”
“Coastguard, we read you loud and clear and will be anchored and waiting for you when you arrive. May’s Revenge thanks you for your assistance. Bless you and your crew.”
Laying down the microphone, Duke looked at May, who was standing in the door, posing for his approval. She squealed in delight when he said, “Well, that went off as planned. Are you ready for this May?”
He walked her out onto the deck of his most recent acquisition and just stared at the lithe grace that flowed from his new slave-wife. They had been married in Miami exactly one week ago and this 111-foot yacht was their wedding present from their friends at A-H Estates. Stony and Dennis were the captain and the navigator, and they flipped a coin every morning to see which one was in which role. A crew of five ex-Navy journeymen grooms rounded out their crew. Duke had named this boat for May’s revenge against the ones that condemned her to prison on trumped up charges. Living well was always the best revenge, and on this boat May lived very well. If there was ever such a thing as a slave-queen, it was May. Still very much a slave in her heart, May was the titular queen of this sailing vessel.
“Oh yes Duke. I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this moment for months as you know. For the longest time I didn’t think we were ever going to give them back, but your plan and the plans of your groom-corps have pulled a magic rabbit out of the old hat. They seem none the worse for wear, but have no idea who they are, how they got here, who we are, or anything about what happened to them. During these last few hours with them I’ve been very thoroughly convinced that they really think that this is Gilligan’s Island!”
May looked very elegant in her designer one-piece swimsuit and matching sarong bought in one of the high-end boutiques in Miami. Her jewelry, which consisted of long, dangly earrings, a wedding band and three-carat engagement ring combination, a gem encrusted slave bracelet on her right hand, a matching chevron necklace and a belly chain of finest platinum was also bought in Miami for their ceremony. Her long platinum-blonde hair was swept to one side and gathered over her right shoulder. On her feet she wore T-strap wedges with a five-inch arch that had specially ribbed rubber soles to help her maintain her footing onboard the yacht. Her make-up was perfect, and she smelled like an heiress. While Duke had made certain last-minute arrangements, she’d spent time luxuriating in one of the finest spas in all of Florida. She now looked, felt and acted the part of a lady on holiday.
Duke was dressed casually in khakis, a polo shirt, deck-shoes and a Commodore’s hat. The crew was uniformed in Navy-blue BDU’s and they were making sure the boat looked pristine for their guests that would be arriving soon. Two of them were seeing to the needs of the three women who had been on the island for a week fending for themselves. They were dehydrated, but not dangerously so. They were hungry but being fed soup and crackers by the crew-grooms and they gave the disheveled appearance of shipwrecked survivors. Wrapped in blankets, the three women looked around like school children on a field trip, talking about trivialities and nonsense.
An unregistered sailing craft had beached them on this island exactly one week ago and then was scuttled in twenty-feet of water approximately 50-yards from the beach. You could still see the main mast sticking up out of the water and Duke’s grooms had done a very convincing job of blowing a natural looking hole out of the bottom of the engine compartment before the boat was sunk. Evidence of some of the other women that had originally been kidnapped with these three could still be found in the cabins of the wreck and the stage had been carefully set for when the Coastguard or Navy divers investigated. No detail had been left to chance and this elaborate ruse was designed to raise as many questions as it answered. If they brought in a forensics’ team quickly, they might even find the planted evidence that would lead them to suspect that the executives of TTI had a part in the kidnapping of their own women, but that evidence would not last more than a week or two under the salt-water. It wasn’t meant to. They didn’t want to make it too easy for the investigators.
There was little doubt that Diane, Cecelia and Geneva would be recognized. Their kidnapping had been a media sensation for weeks, especially when no ransom demands were delivered. Even with the crew cuts they sported, facial recognition software would identify these women by tonight at the latest. Then the media circus would start up all over again. In fact, A-H Estates was prepared to key into the expected media frenzy to further confuse and mislead the investigation by influencing certain media conglomerates from behind the scenes. Nothing would be left to chance.
Duke and his groom corps had done an excellent job at obfuscating the evidence at hand. Nothing was as it seemed, and nothing could be insinuated even under the closest of scrutiny. The grooms had months to prepare the counter forensics to confuse the investigators. With the huge amount of false information that had been spoon-fed to the subliminally susceptible and suggestible minds of these women, nothing they remembered or pieced together could ever be coherent enough to matter. They had been completely wiped clean, specifically re-programmed, and now the groom corps had exacting recipes and procedures, in case they ever needed to do it again in the future.
When the helicopter began to hover over May’s Revenge, a corpsman came down in the recovery basket to examine the survivors. He quickly loaded them, one at a time, into the rescue basket, strapped them in securely and had them hoisted up to the helicopter. Before the corpsman left he made sure to remind Duke that his Captain would want to question them about this and that they should wait until he arrived. The first thing Duke did was thank him for serving and Duke assured him that he had no problems waiting for the Coastguard cutter. Duke off-handedly mentioned that his crew had some maintenance to do while they waited for the Coastguard cutter to arrive. Duke also added that he hoped that these unfortunate women got the medical assistance they needed as quickly as possible. Throughout all this, May tantalized the corpsman in her provocative way, without ever saying a word or being overtly suggestive. Her presence was just the right amount of distraction for the young man though.
Knowing that she would have to accompany Duke over to the cutter when it arrived to give their statements, May changed into some sexy underwear, and a wide-belted sundress that emphasized all of her curves. Out of habit she also put on suntan pantyhose. Part of May’s mission was to distract the sailors and to keep men looking at her.
When the cutter arrived, they immediately sent a contingent of sailors to start searching the island for any other survivors. The Coastguard zodiac stopped back at May’s Revenge to pick up the owners, Duke and May and transport them back to the ship. A second zodiac and a squad of sailors, by invitation, left the cutter to inspect the May’s Revenge. Duke made sure that copies of their ownership and registration papers, copies of their passports and health registration cards and copies of their weapons permits were made available for inspection. Duke wanted no doubt in the Coastguard’s mind that they were above boards and willing to comply with the law.
Arriving at the cutter, May was obviously and intentionally the center of attention. Captain Grizwell met them on deck because the scuttlebutt was already all over the ship about the hottie coming aboard. He welcomed them aboard, offered them coffee and both Duke and May took a cup. May made it a point to shake the hand of every member of the crew she came across, and individually thanked each one of them for their service. Most were surprised when May looked them square in the eye and gave them a firm handshake, instead of some haughty dead-fish shake. Duke tried the same tactic, but only a few seemed interested in being thanked by him when May was smiling and being coquettish. The Captain let May make the rounds to most of his crew and then the Captain, his first officer and the chief of the boat all adjourned to a small conference room. Duke and May told the Captain all about finding the women sitting on the beach earlier that morning. They told the Captain about not getting a straight answer out of them and being suspicious of some reality show prank at first, but when they examined the physical state of the women, they knew they weren’t well and that something was seriously wrong. May told the Captain all about asking them their names and how they introduced themselves as Ginger, Mary-Ann and Lovey Howell. From then on it was just a matter of keeping the women warm, feeding them something they could keep down and calling for help.
The Chief recorded this interview, took their written statements, made copies for Duke and made copies of their passports and all of their documentation. Duke then took a picture of all of them with May from his iPhone. Before they were taken back to their yacht, the Captain called them back into the conference room.
“Mr. and Mrs. Grandville, it seems we have to inconvenience you a bit more. The three women you found were determined to be three of the missing women from that mass kidnapping that was all over the news a few months ago. I just received word that some FBI agents have hitched a ride on my copter and would like to have a talk with you. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you to any great extent. They should be here within the hour.”
“We had nothing planned,” said Duke with May shrugging and shaking her head. “We’d anchored in this bay to do some general maintenance anyway, because our engineer had told us about a funny sound the engines were making. May and I are on an extended honeymoon and have no agenda other than to spend time together and to enjoy ourselves. If the FBI wants to question us, we have nothing to hide and would consider it to be our duty to help them in any way they need. Were those women really kidnapped? I would have never recognized them in the shape they were in from the pictures that were all over the news.”
“Chief, I want to offer any aid we can extend to these good folks, to make sure their engines are in tip-top shape.”
“Captain, from the reports I’ve gotten back, every one of their crew is retired U.S. Navy and two of the seven were SEALs. Our people say they have everything in their engine room squared away and that they’re over there now swapping war stories and having a fine time with our people.”
“Good enough Chief,” said Captain Grizwell. Turning back to Duke and May he continued with, “Apparently they were all identified through facial recognition software and now everyone is all in an uproar wondering where the other eight are. That’s one of the reasons the FBI is coming onboard. They want us to start an extensive search of the island and then of the surrounding islands starting ASAP and even going into the night, using our FLIR equipped helicopter when it drops off our new guests.”
“That’s just so horrible Captain, being kidnapped and then just deserted on some uninhabited island to starve to death. Is there anything we can do? I feel so bad for them,” exclaimed May.
“It was a terrible day in America Ma’am,” said the Captain, “and I just pray the other women are safe and still alive. Now is there any courtesy I can extend for the two of you while we wait on the Feebies?”
“Feebies?” ask May.
“The FBI Honey,” said Duke. “It’s just a name many people call them behind their backs. In all reality, I get along much better with the guys I know from the BATF and the Marshal’s service. They always seem to have more of a sense of humor than the Feebies I know. Don’t get me wrong, the FBI agents I’ve met have all been competent and decent guys, but I just have more fun around some of the other feds I know.”
“But Duke, they’re just good men doing an unappreciated job. They’re paid to investigate bad guys and uphold the law, not amuse us. We should give them all the support we can and not call them that name. It sounds so wrong for men like that.”
“Okay, point taken. We won’t call them that name anymore.”
“Good. Have I told you that I love you lately?”
“No, but it’s always good to know the woman I love, loves me back.”
“Chief, why don’t you give the Grandvilles a tour of the Auxiliary and by then the helicopter ought to be back with the FBI agents.”
“Thank you, Captain, and Chief, may I call you Chief? I’d be delighted if you’d give me a tour of this beautiful ship,” and with that May looped her arm through his, absent-mindedly rubbed the side of her tit against his forearm and smiled a smile that would melt a glacier. Duke just sort of tagged along.
Later that afternoon, after the agents had talked to Duke it was May’s turn. When it was just the three of them, they began the interview.
“Please state your full name, date of birth and social security number for the record.”
May smiled at them and said, “I was born May Lee Hightower, in Las Vegas, Nevada, and now I’m May Lee Grandville. My date of birth is April 2nd, 1982, and my social security number is ###-##-####. My Duke and I are having a new house built, so my current address is this yacht, the May’s Revenge out of Miami.”
After taking her statement and asking her some general questions about the incident, one of the agents casually asked, “May, were you kidnapped on or around April 15th of last year?”
“Oh my god no agent, why would you ever ask me a question like that?”
“Because according to your friends, a Bob Johnson and Carlos Diaz, in Vegas, you dropped off the face of the Earth around that date and no one’s seen you or heard from you since then, until today. Would you mind explaining what happened to you during the last year?”
“I met Duke, Duke Grandville of course, and he literally swept me off my feet. With the exception of a few days that he was away on business, we’ve been with each other every day since then, and as you can see,” she flashed the wedding ring in their direction, “last week he made an honest woman out of me. He’s now my husband, but he’s been my lover, best friend, companion and confidant for the last year.”
“Okay Mrs. Grandville, that tells us who you’ve been with, but not what happened to you to make you walk away from your former life the way you did. They told us that you had just abandoned your apartment, possessions, sold your car, and then just disappeared. What caused you to do that?”
“I met a man! A very rich man. I fell head-over-heels in love with him and he helped me over a very rough spot in my life. A woman in love sometimes does silly things and I didn’t really care about my old life anymore. My apartment was a dive, my car was a junker, my clothes were one step above a vagabond’s, and my boyfriends were tools. What else is there to tell?”
“You could tell us more about this rough spot that he helped you get over. What kind of rough spot was it?”
“I’m a little embarrassed, but I guess that it was so long ago that it doesn’t really matter now. I tried to commit suicide, agent, and Duke stopped me. He is a licensed psychotherapist, and he got me over the rough spot.”
“Would you please tell us more of the details that were involved?”
“I was very depressed about my life. As you probably already know, I was just released from a six-year prison sentence for something I didn’t do in January of last year. I couldn’t find any work other than dancing on a pole, which is decent money in Vegas, but hardly fulfilling work and I was dating knuckleheads like Bob and Carlos. That was depressing enough, but when I got raped after a private show one night, I started sinking lower and lower into the pit. I was going to go out in one last blaze of glory, so I bought some sleeping pills, and I went out to get laid by the nicest guy I could find. Then I was going to get really drunk and eat that large bottle of pills and just fade away. I found my Duke in a bar off The Strip, and it must’ve been one of those chemical things you read about, because I fell instantly in lust with this man and drug him to bed as soon as I could without looking like some whore. I just had to have him. He found the pills and when he asked me about them, I told him what I wanted to do. He started talking to me, and between room service, sex, more sex, more room service and more talk, he started to ease me out of my depression. From there we went to the private clinic he worked at and that process of talking through it, mixed with more of the best sex that I could have ever imagined really helped. My depression just seemed to be gone one day. We’ve talked and had great sex almost every day for the last year, and as of last week he married me, and you can see what we’re doing now. If I was a kidnap victim, don’t you think I’d tell you guys, the FBI, so you could save me from this lifestyle, and then I could go back to Vegas and start dancing on a pole again? C’mon agents. Duke has been the best thing to ever happen in my life, and if you can’t understand leaving a pole job and a pair of no-account knuckleheads for a man like that, then you guys really haven’t a clue. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t disparage you like that, but it just seems so obvious to me and so logical to be with Duke, that what Bob and Carlos told you isn’t anything but their part of the story because they weren’t getting laid anymore.”
“Mrs. Grandville, we now understand much more of the story, and we can certainly agree that the lifestyle you’re leading now seems much healthier than the lifestyle you were living. We were just investigating another possible kidnapping, erroneously reported by Mr. Johnson and Mr. Diaz, but if you say this was all consensual, then we have nothing left to ask you. Is there anything else you can tell us that may help us solve the curious circumstances surrounding the recovery of those three women this morning?”
“No agent, I’ve told you everything I’ve observed from this morning on until now. I can’t think of any detail I left out of my statement. I just hope you find whoever did this to them.”
“Well, thank you for your time Mrs. Grandville. If we have any further questions may we call on you to help?”
“Of course, agent, I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. Like I said, I don’t have any address other than this yacht, but you have my cell number, and if you call either Duke or myself, we’ll make port, and arrange to meet with you at your convenience. This is just so terrible what happened to those women. Godspeed with your investigations and bless you.”
After saying goodbye to the officers and crew of the Auxiliary, Duke and May were finally ferried back over to the May’s Revenge. Waving goodbye in the dark, Duke reached around and pinched one of May’s nipples. She almost swooned and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in a long time, when for the record the last time they’d had sex was under fifteen hours ago. She was laughing delightedly when he threw her over his shoulder and carried her down into the main cabin, making sure to watch her head on the low doorways.
“Master, if you don’t...”
“Shhh. Stony, did you,” and Duke made sweeping gestures with his hands and pointed around the yacht?
Drolling on, with no expression in his reply Stony said, “Yes, my liege, the boat is clean. All of it, and we even set up white noise scramblers to interfere with any long-range listening devices they may have. You may abuse the Lady May as you will, with all the lust and booty gathering of the pirate you are,” and laughed when Duke stuck his tongue out at him and swatted May on the butt.
“Now you were saying, slave?”
“Master, if you don’t tie me up and have your way with me soon, I might just bust.”
Duke took her forward to their cabin and immediately, yet slowly disrobed her down to her skin, taking off and stowing her new jewelry, and then putting on strappy six-inch cage sandals on her and buckling the straps tightly around each foot. To May, having Duke put skyscraper heels on her was as erotic as his big hands stripping the clothes off her body. She knew how hot high heels made him for her. He was quite the fetishist. His Commodore’s hat went flying and then his clothes magically became a pile in the corner. As soon as he was sure the drapes over the portholes were secure, he pulled rope out and began to tie her. She eagerly held the backs of her hands together behind her back when he placed them that way because she loved how helpless this tie would make her. In May’s mind the more helpless her Duke made her the happier she was. More, but thinner ropes went around the palms of her hands and continuing with the thinner cord, he tied each pair of digits together, slowly and carefully making May moan in ecstasy. More wide wraps of rope went around her belly and forearms, and then they were cinched between her arms and back to make her even more helpless. She could feel the inescapable pressure of her impending orgasm smoldering to the surface. With just the tips of his fingers and his fingernails, he drove her over the edge as he scraped light furrows across her full and very excited breasts, tickling her sides and belly as she squirmed and then digging into her butt and thighs like a falling man grasping for that lifesaving grip. May’s moans told him of her commitment to submitting to him.
May began whimpering when he pushed her to her knees, grabbed a handful of hair in both of his fists, but just let her lightly kiss the tip of his dick. She always wanted to gag on the feel of him deep in her throat. May told him often just how oral of a girl she was, and tried to prove it to him every chance she got. This time though he was tormenting her by keeping what she desperately wanted out of her mouth. He swatted her across each cheek by swinging that log he called a penis across her face. May knelt there, helplessly bound with her mouth open, praying he would indulge her need. Finally, he let go of her hair and sat back on the bed with his back against the wall of the cabin. He crooked a finger for her to crawl up and join him and when she got close enough, he just lifted her up and impaled her body on his hard-on.
It never ceased to amaze May how he could pick her up with such ease and maneuver her body like she weighed no more than a child. She bounced up and down on him all the while begging him to let her finish him off with her mouth. Little sparks of excitement flashed along her nerves as if he had the violet wand out again. Of course, those same sparks of excitement came around whenever he touched her skin unexpectedly.
As Duke spasmed and shot his load into her, she relished the feeling but couldn’t help but feel a little cheated because he hadn’t let her gobble him up and taste his seed pumping down her throat. As he lifted her off of him, he motioned for her to scoot off the bunk and kneel on the floor.
Still semi-rigid, he said, “Don’t let it get soft and don’t stop until you’ve tasted what you wanted.” May instantly became happy again and went to work.
Slave-wife and consort,
May testified to the feds,
about the women.